


lost and found

by sunflowerwilde



Category: Captain America (Movies), Marvel Cinematic Universe, The Avengers (Marvel Movies)
Genre: Angst and Fluff and Smut, F/M, Friendship, Other Additional Tags to Be Added, Post-Captain America: Civil War (Movie), Pre-Avengers: Infinity War Part 1 (Movie), Road Trips, Self-Indulgent, Slow Burn
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-05-14
Updated: 2018-09-13
Packaged: 2019-05-06 23:24:50
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 7
Words: 13,118
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14658405
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/sunflowerwilde/pseuds/sunflowerwilde
Summary: Separated from his friends and dodging the government, Steve is trying to live his life on the run. When he stumbles upon a dingy old hotel, he makes an unlikely friendship with a carefree girl in the middle of her road trip. When she offers to give him a lift, he realizes he has nowhere to go, but she's in no rush for him to find one.For the first time in a long time, Steve feels relaxed as they travel together, bonding over small things that, after a few lonely months, mean the world to him. The more miles they cover, the more he trusts her, but he never stopped to consider if he actually should.





	1. On My Own

**Author's Note:**

> Hey, hi. Just a few things -  
> 1) This is my first actual fanfic in a long time and my first ever Marvel one.  
> 2) This is somewhat canon compliant, but I make things up as I go (more accurately because I've forgotten details), and in order to better fit my plot so I'll deviate from it often.  
> 3) This is mostly self-indulging, but I'm trying not to write Steve too OOC so characterization criticisms are welcome.
> 
> I really hope you enjoy.

The hall felt endless, lit in precariously flickering light that jaundiced the stained walls and made Steve's head hurt. His room was in the non-smoking section, yet the scent of nicotine permeated through the air and worsened the ache pulsing behind his eyes. If he could risk drawing attention to himself he would’ve complained to the front desk for a room change, but he needed to be inconspicuous and the sketchy hotel didn't seem like one to enforce the rules, anyway. Just off of a freeway, the place was loud, busy and unclean.

The maroon carpet appeared to have once been crimson, judging by the quarters untouched by grime in the hard to reach corners, making the floors look like the color of dried blood parallel to fresh, and each step made him feel like he'd been squishing something beneath his weight. He continued down the hall, yawning into his hand. Whenever the unreliable light wavered he thought he saw things the size of small predatory animals scurrying toward the crevices—until the light returned to swath the muggy corridor and disintegrate the misshapen shadows.

He pinched the bridge of his nose and took a deep breath. He knew he was too paranoid lately, and the lack of sleep wasn't helping. For the first time he felt closer to his natural age rather than the one he looked, his body aching in protest each time he forced his legs to carry him a step further after days without any significant rest.

Rolling his head to crack his neck, he continued down the narrow hall, sweeping glances over his broad shoulder, unable to shake the feeling of being followed. When he finally reached the end, he pulled the hotel's complimentary bucket from beneath his arm for the ice machine.

Someone emerged from the alcove in that same instant, their body slamming into his. It was a situation he could've easily avoided had it not been for the previous restless forty eight hours, or the furtive glances over his shoulders. 

Frustrated with himself, and perceiving the situation as danger, he reacted swiftly, reaching out a hand to seize the person by the arm, the other prepared to swing the metal bucket at their head. A soft cry shredded through his senses and focused his tired eyes on the girl in his grasp. She had an arm raised to protect her face, not attack, and a packet of candy slipped from her other hand. He backed away, the bucket falling with a soft thud against the thick carpet. His heart sounded loud to his ears. Had he almost attacked someone innocent? 

His fist still curled to defend himself. He waited for her to make a move, whether it was to retaliate or relax, he was prepared for either. "I'm sorry." He said, watching her closely. Her arms fell to her sides, and she stared up at him with wide, pale eyes. The fear in them made him take another step away. "Are you okay, miss?" 

She struggled pulling a few deep breaths in, erratically breathing them back out. She smelled of cigarettes and looked unkempt, grease matted her brown hair down and dressed only in a thin night slip with flip flops. Just a young girl, probably from the party he heard thudding throughout the cheap hotel earlier in the night.

And he almost bashed her skull in. 

His stomach ached, coiled with guilt. She continued watching him; her eyes focused, her breathing eased. "You're..." She looked around the desolate hall, as if she couldn't believe she was the only witness. "You're Captain America."

He, too, looked around. "Shh."

"Well, you're hardly disguised." She gestured toward his apparel, a simple baseball cap, local community college sweatshirt, sweatpants and untrimmed facial hair, which he’d been convinced made him look like a new person altogether. Until then.

"Are you okay?" He repeated, suddenly wanting to get far away from her. He knew she couldn't have been the only one who recognized him over the last few months, but she was the first to call him out on it to his face. It unnerved him. "I'm terribly sorry. I thought you were—" He froze. Who  _did_ he think she was? Police? CIA?

_Stark?_

He took a deep breath. He really needed to go to sleep, but he wouldn't feel comfortable resting there since he was made.

"I'm fine. I didn't mean to sneak up on you."

"Doesn't happen often." He admitted, reaching to retrieve the lost bucket and her abandoned pack of candy.

"I'd be lying if I said that didn't make me somewhat proud." She looked nervous as she accepted the candy from him, and he didn't feel it necessary to mention how her ability to sneak up on him said more about him and his precarious mindset than anything about her. She brushed her hair back from her face, the shock seeming to wear off. "Are  _you_  okay?"

Steve blinked. Was the exhaustion showing more than he realized? Was the paranoia? What was he to say?  _I'm living life on the run, if you could call this a life, that is,_ sounded far too depressing.

He stepped around her toward the ice machine so she could stop reading him. It noisily hummed into life, vibrating the floor with it. "Not as easy to get a night's rest here as it appears from the outside." 

"We must not have seen the same outside." 

"Maybe not." He offered half of a smile. The hotel was called  _Sleep Inn_. He at least hoped it would live up to its name, even if it looked questionable.

"But I have a feeling you fit in more than you realize in that sweatshirt. It's festival season. Raging parties for a whole week, college kids galore."

He looked at her once more. She was dropping him a hint, but why? He knew better than to trust that easily. She was young. A part of him thought it would inherently make her unreliable, especially judging from the social media craze of the recent years. He knew everyone put their business online, and as if exposing themselves wasn’t enough, they then uploaded other people's via pictures and a limited number of characters in exchange for followers and likes and unsustainable relevance.

At least she hadn't asked for a selfie, as others before her had.

"And when is this festival season over?" He asked.

"The 22nd." Five days. He could potentially stay for five more days, if that meant a crowd to blend into every day. It was easiest to hide in plain sight in bustling places. "You should check it out. The music isn't half bad."

He tucked the ice bucket underneath his arm again. "Maybe." He didn’t mean it. When he looked at her, he thought she knew it, too.

Gazing down at her, he noticed there was something in her eyes and the firm set of her mouth that made her seem like she'd seen quite a great deal of life.

Most people he met were young compared to him, but maybe, just maybe, she wasn't as young as she looked at first glance. She was pretty, too, lightly freckled and made up of toned limbs and soft curves that her dress snagged on, green eyes thickly lined and heavily lashed and her lipstick overdrawn.

She nodded, looking him up and down. "Well, I'm in room 710 if you're interested." His eyes widened at the suggestiveness.

Women were certainly more brazen these days than when he was young, though he realized post-serum life—the small bit of it he did get to venture out in before the ice—women could be even more forward than  _that_ , too.

So maybe they were always upfront when they were interested and he hadn’t known it until he looked less prepubescent and fragile.

"I meant," she cleared her throat, "I meant like if you wanted someone to go with, I wouldn't mind being a bit of a tour guide—not that—well—I'm not  _not_  interested in something else if it were an option." She smiled shamelessly. "You're a fucking superhero for Christ sake."

Steve looked down at his shoes and chose to ignore the parts that didn't matter to him. "Are people still calling me that?" Last label he’d heard himself called was fugitive.

She shrugged. "I am." 

He could feel his cheeks heat. He was a hundred years old, even if he did look to be in his early thirties, yet it was humbling to be flattered by a pretty girl. "Thanks. We'll see about that festival."

She laughed lightly, so freely, like him turning up to a music festival was a joke. And he supposed it was. He wasn’t going to go, yet he kept implying he’d think about it when he didn’t mean it just to be polite. "I'm Eva, by the way." She extended her hand. "Geneva, actually, but no one calls me that."

He switched the ice bucket to take her hand. It was dainty in his, but her grip was strong and a little clammy. "Steve."

"It's been a real honor to meet you. Even if it almost literally cost me my head."

"Again, I'm so sorry about that."

"Don't be. I get it."  _Do you really?_ Steve wondered, but instead nodded glumly, even more sorry for her if she understood what it was like to be that jumpy. "I'm sorry I disturbed your night."

They parted with congenial smiles, Steve with his ice and her upending the candies into her mouth as she ambled away. He lingered, waiting for her to disappear down the hall and for the light to sway to cast him in shadows.

He wanted to be sure she wouldn't know what direction he went.


	2. Seize The Day

Steve slept poorly, but come sunrise no one beat down the door for him like he predicted. He figured his secret was safe with Eva for the time being. If only he realized it sooner, he could’ve fretted less and slept more.

He went to the window with his morning cup of coffee, pulling the dusted curtains aside to check if anyone was out waiting for him. Nothing seemed out of the ordinary, except a new assortment of cars with obnoxiously crude decal stickers slotted in the parking lot. It seemed more and more people arrived late and into the early morning for the festival.

He drank the sludgy dregs from his mug, contemplating whether it was worth getting free continental breakfast. Vending machine granola bars weren't going to satiate him, and he didn’t exactly have the luxury to turn down free food, no matter how meager, being that he didn't receive a government paycheck anymore.

He had to save the bit of his savings he did manage to scrounge up. 

It was decided, then. He grabbed his canvas bag in case he’d have to hurry out, slung it over his shoulder, and pulled the brim of his hat low before he headed for the elevators.

The doors opened up to an eerily quiet lobby occupied by a few people. A tired looking woman read a newspaper near the window, a young couple drank orange juice in front of the weatherman on the TV, and ruffled men in their ill-fitting suits rolled luggage toward the front desk.

Steve found a peculiar sense of comfort in the lull of morning. He preferred the sedated strangers to the raucous partygoers, at least.

The smell of coffee lingered in the air. There were trays of food piled on top of the banquet table, a few rows of pastries, muffins, croissants, bagels, and a cooler filled with yogurts. He pulled a yogurt out at random and grabbed one of the muffins and a bagel before retreating to the sitting area in the farthest corner of the room.

He opened one of the complimentary magazines to look occupied as he ate, which he did at a leisurely pace, trying not to be a cause of any sort of suspicion. He was already wearing a baseball cap indoors, but no one seemed to glance twice at him.

When he finished, his stomach felt just as empty as when he started. He threw his mess in the trash bin and grabbed a water bottle on his way back to the elevators.

A couple of people strolled out of the rickety steel case. Steve stepped aside for them and nodded politely before he stepped on. He hit the number seven.

“Hold the elevator!” A voice called after him. Steve jutted his arm out and for a second he feared the old, rigid door wouldn’t stop. When it did, the shaft quivered and Steve let out of a sigh in relief.

Except it was Eva who stepped in, and his relief turned into suspicion.

She looked a lot more groomed than the night before, well rested and skin dewy, a summer dress hanging from her shoulders. Her hair looked cleaner, combed back and kept in place by over-sized sunglasses.

“We have to stop meeting like this, Mr. Rogers." She said. He watched closely as she went to hit the number seven, realized it was already glowing, and then leaned against the wall instead. She carried plastic bags in each hand, the bright blue logo on the front matched the diner he remembered seeing down the road. Steve's mouth watered at the smell of a warm breakfast.

"Can I help you with anything?"

She adjusted her grip. "Oh, no, thank you. I'm good."

"All that food for you?"

"I wish. Instead I have to share with a hungover, Nirvana rip-off band that I'm apparently the new babysitter for." She pursed her lips, studying him. "You do know who Nirvana is, right?"

Steve chuckled. "I'm familiar with them, believe it or not.”

“Cool. Well, I have to get this food into their Z-list wannabes before they go to sound check.” Maybe it was a coincidence seeing her after all. She rushed out early to grab breakfast and happened upon him in the elevator. It was an ordinary circumstance.

He had to stop thinking everyone was out to get him.

“Is that the type of festival that's going on? A rock one?"

"It’s a combination of many genres over the next few days, but there are a lot of rock bands today. Some of them lean more toward a pop sound, though, not that they’ll ever admit it. Are you into that sort of thing?"

Seeing her in the new light without the overuse of makeup or tinge of her night at a party rolling off of her, Steve didn’t think she fit in with the dodgy hotel. She had a look about her, polished and orderly, each strand of hair sleek, and her well fit dress matching her nail polish. She also had an audacious air around her that usually, in his experience, alluded to quite a bit of wealth.

"I can’t say that I am. I’m more of a jazz man, myself.”

Her smile seemed genuine. He expected her to laugh at him, but when it didn't come he allowed himself to smile back. "To be honest, I'm not into it much, either." He raised an eyebrow at her. Did she just work with the band, then? She ran an errand for them after all. "I know, then why am I going, right? It surely isn't for the crap beer and the blazing heat." As the elevator dinged to let them off on their floor, he gestured for her to go ahead of him.

"I know the band personally. Figured I’d support them. I needed an excuse to get out and have some mindless fun anyway.”

They fell in a companionable stride down the hall. He didn't realize he was walking her to her room until they were already there.

"The first show starts at one, but I'll probably leave around two, if you know, you're still mulling it over. I'll be here with an extra ticket. A taxi will take fifteen minutes to get downtown.”

Steve lowered his head, rubbing the back of his neck. It didn’t seem like a good idea. “Yeah, I don’t know about that.”

“In a pair of sunglasses no one will look twice at you.”

“But that’s not really my scene.”

“Is anything in this era?”

“Now that you mention it…”

She giggled. “It wouldn’t hurt to live a little.” Steve slid his hands in his pockets, not sure what to say. Eva tilted her head, getting a better look at him.

“You didn’t have that shitty breakfast downstairs, did you? Do you want—”

“Oh, no, no, I couldn’t—”

“It’s no big deal—”

“Please, I don’t want to impose—”

“No, really, there’s too much anyway. I ordered a lot because I wasn’t sure what anyone would eat since they’re so hungover.” Before Steve could argue anymore, she was shoving one of the bags at him. He sighed, peering inside of it. It smelled like bacon was in one of the containers. “Take it. And go.”

Baffled at the new tone of voice, he looked back up at her, but he saw she was smiling despite the urgency in her tone. “If I knock on the door and someone comes…” She trailed off.

Steve nodded. “Right.” Someone else could’ve recognized him. “Thank you, Eva.” She probably thought he meant for the food, but he was thanking her more for keeping it a secret that he was there.

Her eyes met his, the green slowly transitioning in the light. She nodded in return, and again, there was a flash in her eyes of something he didn’t understand. Before he wasted too much time there trying to decode it, he turned away and headed to his own room. When he was far enough out of sight he heard her knock at the door.

 

As the clock neared two, Steve found himself reaching for his hat. 

It made no sense to him, but he didn’t question it further or he’d think himself in circles. His feet moved of their own volition, his conscience inexplicably drawn to the idea of all the _new_ the situation presented. With no one depending on him, it opened up a lot of doors for him to enjoy more revelry. A lot more time to figure out which ones he was actually into. He was already out, and Eva offered, why not take her up on it?

Besides, she seemed to have a natural inclination to look out for him, a courtesy he hadn’t expected to find in people since the government announced him to be a criminal. He wanted to trust her.

When he reached her door, he braced himself with a deep breath and knocked. A few thudding heartbeats later, she appeared at the door, an eyebrow furrowed. When she realize it was Steve, the perplexity vanished, replaced by a broad smile.

Her teeth were pearly and white, and he noted the way her smile brightened up her entire face. She dressed in a different outfit from earlier, a plain tee and ripped denim shorts, yet again, something about her seemed misplaced there among the peeling wallpapers and all the cheap furnishings despite the simplicity of her look. Not that he knew anything about fashion or trends, but she seemed to bounce around a few at a time, like she was either trying to fit in or she had no true sense of self.

He had a feeling each look he’d seen her in so far was as much of a disguise as his.

“I can’t believe this.” She said, her eyes flicking up and down to take all of him in.

Steve blushed. “Yeah, well, neither can I.”

She bit into her lip, as if to keep herself from smiling. “You’re sure about this?”

“Yes. Well, I mean, I _think_ I am.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I know this is starting off so slow. I have the tendency to overwrite irrelevant bits and lose sight of all the important ones in the process, and so I'm paying really close attention to the pacing of this to avoid doing that here and to keep each chapter a reasonable length. 
> 
> Also there's so much I want to do with Eva, so I want to set up a lot and really establish their dynamic before the good stuff. Please, bear with it!


	3. A Little Less Alone

“So, this is the band you’re friends with?”

Eva let her plastic cup fall to the ground. Steve bristled alongside of her, but said nothing as he swooped down to retrieve it. He’d look for a trash can after the show, though picking up one piece of litter barely made a difference to the dying grass scattered with it.

“I wouldn’t say _friends_.” She corrected, gazing up at the stage with a faraway look in her eye. In the evening sun, those eyes were brighter than he’d seen them, yet. “I sort of dated the lead singer back when he was in a different band.”

Steve watched the singer as the wind fanned his shaggy hair around his face and blew apart the lapels of his thin shirt, revealing a bird-like chest inked in various bright colored tattoos beneath. Whenever he wasn’t singing he bounced around doing a dance that, in Steve’s mind, mirrored convulsions, but must’ve appealed to the ladies in the crowd because they screamed their heads off, making the singer bite his lip ring in return and do more suggestive movements. Almost all of those movements involved running the mic the length of his torso.

Steve didn’t understand the appeal. He could add _strange taste in men_ to the list of things he was starting to learn about Eva, which so far consisted of the fact she bat her lashes at anyone who looked at her, had a pleasant singing voice that she used to belt songs out at the top of her lungs, and had an uncoordinated way of dancing before she even downed her beer in the impressive amount of seconds it took.

Her sort-of-ex-boyfriend's band were the fourth group to take the stage since they’d been there, and each of the band members looked alike; he wondered if there was some sort of standard set for these guys to all wear the same things, have piercings, and perform similar songs.

“He asked me to check out his new sound, so I thought _why not_? It’s always fun to see how much better off I ended up.”

Steve laughed, finishing the last of his beer, crushing the plastic cup in his hand until it was but a flat strip. He dropped it into the cup he collected from the ground to minimize what he had to carry. He tried to focus on the screeching noises the band was making. The crowd loved them, was he missing something? They were no better than the last, and in fact, he _hated_ the last.

“They’re not too good, are they?”

Relieved she pointed it out before he gathered the audacity to criticize something she might’ve enjoyed, he smiled down at her. The heat turned her face into a rosy shade, making the constellation of freckles arranged around the bridge of her nose stand out, and her hair had been matted to her temples since she started dancing and jumping around when the music was a little better two sets ago. “It’s bad.” He said.

“So bad.”

“Terrible.”

Eva winced when the singer forgot his own lyrics. Not for the first time, and probably not the last. She turned back to Steve and finally noticed he picked up her trash, which she then pointedly narrowed her eyes at. “Want to get some food?”

 _Please_ , Steve thought, _anything to get away from this_. “After you.” He said.

He kept his head ducked as they maneuvered through the crowd of sweaty bodies. Most of the men carried ladies on their bare shoulders so they could see the stage, other groups of friends formed their own smaller crowds to flail around in, and those left had their smartphones raised to capture the singers on the stage in them.

Steve thought watching a concert through a small screen was an odd way to do it.

He followed close behind Eva as they headed for the vendors. They charged an arm and a leg for food, Steve wasn’t sure if he was going to get anything other than another cheap beer.

When Eva asked if he wanted something in particular, he insisted she didn’t have to get him anything. She ignored it, admonishing him that the festival foods were part of the experience. They hopped from vendor to food truck, and she ordered everything from sliders to snickerdoodles and everything in between—fries, some dubious looking experimental mac and cheese concoction he didn’t think looked like real food, and even chips and guacamole, too. She paid for everything and he carried it all in exchange, feeling guilty about it not being much of a fair trade. They waited in a long queue for alcohol, sharing the food as the sun blared down on them.

“So,” Steve began conversationally as he balanced the tray in his hands for her to eat the messy mac and cheese from it, “was he just as bad in his old band?”

She covered her full mouth to laugh. “Kellan? I honestly can’t remember. You tend not to pay attention to those things when you’re a teenager and convinced you’re in love. He was perfect to me, but let’s be real, the band was probably shit. Weird how he’s gained a lot more traction with this one, though.”

Steve casually turned away when a couple posed for a photo a few feet away. With the tech nowadays, all he needed was to be silhouetted in the background of a photo and the government could track him down. “They’re famous?”

“Not _famous_ , but known. Quite popular on Instagram at least.” A small part of him was proud he didn’t have to ask what that was. “The more famous performers are later.” Her eyes gleamed at that.

They ordered beer and found a vacated picnic table to sit. They were far from the stage, but the speakers amplified the music enough for him to feel as if they were near. Eva bobbed her head, seeming to enjoy the change from something loud and screechy to the softer noises of acoustic guitars. That made two of them.

“This one isn’t so bad.” He said.

“Really? Is that just you’re resting face, then?”

Steve felt himself frowning. “What do you mean?”

“You look so unimpressed.”

“Well, I’m not impressed. They should’ve been this good the whole time.”

“Ouch. You’re a hard man to please.”

Steve averted his eyes. “Are you from around here?”

“Not originally. I came to the west coast for school, but I grew up in New York.”

“Really? So did I.” Albeit a different New York than she grew up in.

“I know. You’re from Brooklyn.” He was surprised she knew. “You realize you’re a crucial part of history, don’t you? I had to study you in high school.” She giggled at his expression, which he figured projected how mortified he felt. His horror was less a reaction to his story being taught to students and more to the significant age gap between them. While the defining moments of his life felt more like yesterday to him, they happened long ago enough to be part of her _history_ lessons.

“Which part are you from?”

Her attention stayed on her fries, but Steve didn’t miss when she frowned. “Manhattan. It kind of got hard to stay after…” She trailed off with a shrug.

Understandingly, Steve looked down into his own platter, unable to look at her. He felt the need to apologize to her again, even though the invasion wasn’t his fault. When the Chitauri ruined half the city, the Avengers did all they could to stop them, but sometimes he still wished they had done more.

“I transferred universities and never really looked back after.”

He wondered if she lost someone in all the chaos. It wasn’t something to ask someone you’d just met. Instead, he cleared his throat and went back to lighter topics.

“Are you still in school?”

“I wish. Being an actual adult isn’t as fun as it looked to me as a kid.”

“You’re what, twenty-two?” 

She snorted. “Twenty-five, but thank you for that.”

“Huh.” He searched her face for her age. When she inclined her head, raising an eyebrow at him, he blushed and looked away.

“I guess that’s the real reason I decided to drive out here last minute. The first time I left home, I was seventeen and I jumped on a tour bus with Kellan. I think a part of me has been chasing that high ever since. I left my job to be able to do this again.”

“Go to concerts?”

“Have a life instead of living in the preordained way set up for me. I still need to figure so much of myself out, and I couldn’t do that behind my desk, you know? Going on tour with a guy I barely dated for a month wasn't the smartest thing I ever did, but the adventure was exciting. I got to see so many places, live so many different lives. I’m thinking about driving cross country to experience that all again. Maybe it'll be better now that I'm older and there aren't any strings."

She sighed, dreamily. "There’s just so much freedom in _leaving_.”

He stayed silent, soaking in all of the information. He never thought he’d relate to her, but she felt similar to how he did, there was freedom in _not_ being Captain America, even though saving people was what he was meant to do, and what he did with vigor and passion. But it started to grow monotonous over the years. He never felt he had time to adapt to anything or take a moment for himself.

He’d considered retiring before, but he couldn’t bring himself to until the mess with the accords forced his hand. Despite being on the run, he felt a new freedom he never experienced before.

“So, you’re going to tour with the band again?”

“God, no. Back then I thought I needed him to show me the world. I’ve realized I can hop in my car and show myself.” She took a sip of her drink. “And I’m not nearly as reckless as when I was seventeen. I liked to follow trouble. Now, it has the tendency to follow me, whether I like it or not.”

Steve thought back to how he was paranoid enough to almost strike her with a bucket, and the way she looked him in the eye after he apologized and said, _I get it_ , like she knew what being on the run was like.

“Is it still following you?” He asked, his voice low, apprehensive about wading into personal waters after just meeting her, but he couldn’t help but worry.

She sighed. “I don’t know. Trouble doesn’t always take the same form, or announce when it’s coming.” The truth in her statement made his stomach tighten. She lifted her eyes to look into his. They burned a bright emerald shade. “If whoever you’re running from finds out where you are and that we met, am I going to be of interest to them?”

He looked around them, checking to see if anyone was watching. “No. I wouldn’t have agreed to come if I thought there was a chance they’d know where I was.”

She switched off the concern with a flashy smile, the change so abrupt Steve wondered if he imagined the tension in her green eyes. “Lucky me, then.” She winked.

 


	4. Maybe This Time

Steve knew what he was doing was ridiculous, and he was possibly even exposing himself more, but neither revelation were enough to keep him from knocking at her door the next few days so they could spend more time together. It wasn’t that the festival was exciting or the music anything special; he enjoyed the company. It was nice, hanging out felt _normal_.

Not normal by any of the standards that have come to shape his world, but like the social life of a regular guy who could live carefree among an exuberant crowd of strangers doing the same, even if they drank too much and inhaled too much toxin. He’d never be as unreserved as they were, especially not while plagued with memories of wars and having to dodge the government, but he could live vicariously through them. Alongside of them. They were experiencing a life he never had and he was too curious to stay away.

After the festival was over, they’d return to their lives with their mundane jobs and their soft significant others to cozy up to, and they’d be in the comfortability of their own homes—in their own structured lives.

He never had that either.

He didn’t think himself to be a man to romanticize things, but they radiated so much energy, he liked to be immersed in their atmosphere, drawn to their youthful vitality like a moth to a flame.

More than anything, he liked that Eva talked to him as a friend rather than something _other_ , something ostracized. She gave the impression she could be friends with anyone, engaging in conversations that mattered little but kept your interest.

She laughed at his ignorance, and much better, she laughed at his deadpanned jokes. There was liberty in those uncontrolled, squawking laughs; they were the joyous sounds of someone who lived their life without any worry it could be disrupted. She was uninhibited and loud and unbothered that he wasn’t. Her references always flew over his head, yet she somehow made him feel he wasn’t a fish out of water, like despite their difference in life experience, they swam the same streams. 

“You’re doing that thing again.” Eva nudged his shoulder with hers.

Steve zoned out of the festival. He blinked at the bright lights as he came to. Glistening bodies continued to jump and pump their arms on either side of him in tune with the racket the performer was making, but beside him, Eva stopped dancing to glare up at him, her arms crossed in front of her sweat misted chest. 

“Sorry? What thing?” he asked.

“Thinking. You’re thinking again.” She called over the music.

“I’m—” he realized he had no excuse— “sorry.”

“I’m starting to realize you say that a lot.” She had a point. He rubbed the back of his neck, shifting his gaze from her. “Oh, no. Don’t you dare! Get out of your own head.”

He couldn’t help it. The festival was over tonight and he was wondering where life would lead him after all of this. Since he’d been on the run, he spent time among the luxuries of Wakanda, traveled through the dreamiest places of Europe, even carved a place of comfort in abandoned buildings, yet his time at the festival climbed its way to the top of the places he’d enjoyed most. It was the only place he let himself go.

When Eva wasn’t around to laugh at him and the artists stopped playing, he’d go back to his life of escaping close calls and exchanging coded text messages with faraway friends.

T’Challa told him he could return whenever he wanted. They accommodated him well in Wakanda, not to mention, hidden him better than any other place could offer, but everyone had their own lives and their own routines. He felt no more than an overstayed guest, all the while Bucky remained uncured. He appreciated the help they were giving him, but the process proved to be slower than they’d anticipated, and he spent many nights pacing around, hating to be useless, and hating to stress Bucky out with his impatience. Steve knew his absence was a relief to everyone.

Besides, he couldn’t be a world away from the rest of his team without worrying about their safety. Even though they weren’t all in the same state, he was still a hell of a lot closer than he was when he was back in Wakanda.

“I can’t help it,” he admitted. “This,” he waved his hand around, “this isn’t my life. I’m on borrowed time.” _I’m living a borrowed reality_ , he thought.

“Why does that mean you can’t relax while you can?”

“Relax.” He tried the word out for himself. “What’s that mean exactly?”

“It means you aren’t at war. You don’t have to make one in your head because you can’t help but fight. I know it can’t be easy being a war criminal, but you can make it a lot less stressful if you weren’t fighting some personal battle in your own mind.”

“If you knew the images I’ve stored in my mind.” He cut himself off, knowing she meant no harm in reading him, but she spoke about things she didn’t understand, as if she’d known him longer than a mere few days. Really, she knew nothing about him except from his old life the history books reported.

He leaned in close to make sure she could hear him. “If I’m not fighting this battle in my mind, then that means I forfeit it.” He knew brave men who won wars but still lost the ones replaying in their own heads. The only way to put an end to them was to splatter them. In his lifetime, Steve fought more battles than them, seen things they’d never dreamt of—he had no idea how he hadn’t lost himself in it all by now.

But being idle, having no fight to fight, made him feel like he was slowly starting to.

Her face softened, her eyes understanding. She looked more serious than he’d ever seen on her. “I’m not saying don’t fight _that_ fight, I just mean fighting shouldn’t be all you do all of the time. You don’t have to feel guilty for having fun. Enjoy yourself while you can.”

“I am.” He insisted. “This _is_ fun.”

She saw through him and rolled her eyes. The performer said something about putting your hands high, and Eva fell in with the rest of the crowd, clapping her hands as if she’d been paying attention. She looked over her shoulder, making sure he was rooted in the moment, a daring look in her eyes like she was challenging him to participate.

He smiled and clapped in sync with her, like a puppet having his strings tugged.

 

He’d been going to the roof since he discovered the poorly locked stairwell his first night when he was scoping out the exits. Aside from his thoughts and the glowing stars, he was always alone up there. Until he took Eva. He figured it would be better to part from their ephemeral friendship with a conversation rather than disappearing in the night as nothing but a memory.

Below them the rest of the hotel was mostly asleep, and the lights of the building across the street began to blink out. Cars raced across the highway, honking and screeching, sounds amplified by the dead silence of night. 

Eva sat beside the air ventilation unit with her legs crossed and her back to the city. Debris stained her cotton dress and the night washed out the blushed cheeks the sun gave her. Steve walked close to the edge to peer down on the world.

“So what’s next for you?” Eva asked.

His eyes fixed on the hazy horizon where the darkness met the cityscape. “I wish I knew,” he said.

“You don’t have a plan?” There was shock in her voice.

Steve always had a plan. He just hadn’t come up with the next one, yet.

“What about you?” He challenged. “Have you officially decided not to go back to work?” It dawned on him he didn’t know what her job was. He glanced over his shoulder at her. “What is it you do? I don’t think you mentioned it.”

“A boring marketing job.” She said, her face twisted in disgust. “I don’t care enough to go back. I feel like I should be doing _more_ with my life, I just don’t know what more is.”

“You’re really going to drive cross country to find it?”

“I love how amazed you sound. Trust me, I’ve done crazier things.” She stretched her legs in front of her and leaned her weight on her hands, tilting her head to the sky. “I can give you a lift if you want.”

“I don’t know where you’d be giving me a lift to,” he said.

“How much time will it take for you to figure it out?” He watched more lights flicker out and he hopelessly shrugged, even though he knew she wasn’t looking at him. “I have nowhere to be. Road trips are a lot more fun with more than one person,” she said, “what do you say? Come with me?”

She was an enigma to him, but one thing he was certain about was she’d been nothing but nice to him since they’d met, like her kindness had no limit. He wondered what was to be gained from it.

“I shouldn’t.” He watched as she pushed off the ground, her steps small and cautious as she neared him. Her body tensed as she took in the sight of the world below that was holding his interest. She shivered, backing away from the ledge.

Steve curiously watched. “Eva, you aren’t—are you afraid of heights?” he asked, but he saw his answer in her frantic gaze and the brutal assault her teeth were giving her lower lip. “Why on earth did you let me bring you up here?”

“I don’t know. You’re Captain America.” It was not the first time she pointed it out, and he wondered if that was the motive behind her kindness, and if so, was it the fame of him or did she feel as if she’d owed him something?  “You can lead people into anything,” she said.

It seemed her natural instinct to unladen the seriousness of a situation, but this attempt fell short, and it strung an aching chord inside of him. “Clearly that’s not always a good thing. Let’s head down.” He sighed.

 

Steve started to get used to the dry heat, but the next morning, the air felt muggy and dense, and the sky darkened with the promise of rain. When he got to the parking lot, he saw Eva tossing her luggage into her cavernous trunk like her suitcases were packed with feathers. He wondered if she was leaving with less than she arrived with if it meant some of her suitcases were empty.

She pivoted in her running sneakers as she felt him near, shielding her eyes from the defiant sun trying to battle its way out. “Steve!” _Will we ever stop surprising each other_ , he thought to himself. “Have you changed your mind?” She asked.

He slid his hands into his denim pockets. The thought of joining her made him toss and turn all night. It wasn’t until moments ago at the vending machine when his choice solidified. He heard her infectious laughter bellow off the ceilings. He was grateful she didn’t see him, because her laugh made him smile at the vending machine choices like a lunatic, but as he realized the sound of it was fading further and further away, the thought of being alone again panged through him and he knew he better catch up with her.

He was more nervous than he’d been in a while. “Have you?” he asked.

“No,” she said, without any hesitation. “This should be interesting. Welcome aboard.”

“Listen, if I become a burden, don’t hesitate to tell me. You’re not going to hurt my feelings.”

She snorted. “Let me ask you this, Mr. Rogers, do you really think I’m the type of person to hold my tongue? I don’t have that much self-control.” She pat the back of her glossy black luxury SUV. “This is Reagan.”

“She’s nice.” He said. It amused him to see the expensive car bookended by a keyed up station wagon and an old Honda. It was as misplaced in the lot as Eva seemed inside the hotel, like the rest of the place was gray and shadowed the guests until they looked as hollowed and bleak as the place—while Eva bounded through the halls untouched, glowing inside her own bubble.

“She’s nice on the inside, too. Is that all you have?” She gestured to his meager belongings, a backpack and a duffle bag. He tightened his hands on the straps. All he had to his name now were a few changes of clothes, toiletries, loose cash, a couple of maps and more burner phones than friends to call them on.

And his suit. He never went anywhere without it.

Solemnly, he nodded. “This is it.”

“Do you want to throw it in the trunk?”

“I’d rather hang onto my stuff, if you don’t mind.”

She raised her hands. “Doesn’t matter to me. Are you ready to go, or do you need more time to consider?”

He could think of dozens of reasons why embarking on a cross country trip with a girl he barely knew was a bad idea. He silenced all of them. “No, I’m ready.”

Sometimes it was nice not to lead the way. Sometimes following someone else’s path led to new doors. And sometimes you just have to take a chance on people. He trusted his gut, and his gut trusted Eva, not unlike the way he relied on Sam even when he barely knew him. He discovered a close friend in Sam and he saw potential of the same in Eva.

But unlike with Sam, who’s life became tumultuous after Steve introduced him into his fight with HYDRA and then the mess with the accords, he’d leave before he became a danger to her. Steve learned his lesson. This time he won’t put his friend in a direct line of fire.

 _Hopefully_.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> for the record, this isn't beta read and i'm a careless editor. if i've left any mistakes, i'm sorry.


	5. What The Hell Is The Catch?

Steve used his index finger to trace along the highlighted route on the map Eva provided him with. He hovered above the minuscule spec of Brooklyn. It’s been a while since he had a proper place to call home, but it didn’t matter how much time passed since he’s last lived there, Brooklyn was still the only place he _could_ call home. When he worked for SHIELD, he had a quaint apartment he never allowed himself to get warmed up to, and when he considered giving life there in DC a chance the Winter Soldier had literally shot through those intentions. His apartment was ruined and his whole life felt like a lie when HYDRA revealed itself to be growing within the very same company he was working for. He barely got settled into his room at the Avengers base before Ultron happened. And not long after that—

Steve sighed, folding the map back up. He didn’t need to look at it anyway. Eva’s GPS was doing all the work. She used a travel website to conceptualize her route, her haphazard plan was to get back to New York, or drive until she grew weary, whichever came first. According to her Google results, reaching the east coast could be done anywhere between forty-eight hours to ten whole days, depending on how long one lingered in a particular state. Eva didn’t have a clear idea on how many days she wanted to spend in places along the way, insisting _“it depends on the mood,”_ whatever that meant. “And for the record, your girl doesn’t do camping and would die without hot showers, so we’re going to be stopping at motels on a need to basis.” She informed him.

They’d only driven for about half an hour so far, discussing routes and mileage, and Steve was already trying to figure out where would be the best place to hop out.

With a suspicious look, Eva commanded her phone, or maybe she was talking to the car, to play her road trip playlist (Steve thought he’d never catch up with modern technology). A loud cacophony of sounds poured from the speakers.

“I’m going to enjoy this so much,” Eva said. “I have a lot of music that’ll probably make you pout like at the festival.”

“I didn’t pout.”

“There was definitely some pouting.” She argued, easing onto the highway. “Are you also going to complain about speed limits like my grandfather?”

Steve watched the road as she wedged her car into the crowded left lane. He fought a wince. “Depends on how fast you go.” She glanced at him to check if he was serious. He couldn’t keep a straight face at her curious gaze. She smiled when he cracked.

“Watch the road.”

“Yes, grandpa.”

“Ew, don’t.”

She tapped her fingers along the wheel to the rhythm of the music, seemingly in a trance. “Maybe I ought to visit my real grandfather if we make it to New York.” He wondered if that was the real reason she wanted to go. After all, she grew up there, that meant she left an entire history behind when she left.

“I know you mentioned you’d probably get too tired to drive all the way there, but that whole _if we make it_ thing just sounds ominous.”

“Yeah, sorry. Sounded like I’m planning to kill you or something.” She turned to him, flashing him a purposely exaggerated, wicked grin. Steve chuckled, watching cars disappear behind them, like she was in a race with them.

 

Six hours later they were still in California, having burgers the size of their heads and sharing a basket of fries at a sticky table with ripped vinyl seats, and small, child sized hand prints on the adjacent window. Iridescent seashells were the table’s centerpiece, and the placemats were made of flimsy plastic with the kids menu tucked inside. The tiny booth was a challenge for their long legs, and after the fourth or fifth time they accidentally bumped knees, they stopped caring and sat with them touching. Steve had a hard time meeting her gaze as they talked, even more difficult since they were sitting across from each other.

It was a slow Wednesday afternoon, and a low murmur settled among the few customers. It was quiet enough that Eva covered her mouth self-consciously to muffle every laugh, or maybe it was to be polite, he couldn’t tell, but he didn’t like it.

After splitting dessert and her ignoring his attempts to take care of the bill, they both took a bathroom break before heading out in the afternoon sun.

“Hang on,” Steve said. Eva cupped her hands over her pretty eyes to look up at him. “Do you want to switch up? You’ve been driving for hours.”

She smiled. “Thanks, but it’s okay. I’m not tired, yet.”

“You sure? I’m probably the safer driver, too. No offense.”

“None taken, but you’re better with that old fashioned map and my GPS already led us down a dead end. I need you in the passenger seat.”

“Well, all right, but offer stands.”

When they strapped into the car and she started up her playlist again, a familiar Christmas jingle came on. Steve snorted. “Wrong season, don’t you think?”

“I only have it on here because it reminds me of Mean Girls. Instant good mood whenever I hear it.” She said, turning up _Rockin’ Around The Christmas Tree_.

“Mean girls? Which mean girls?”

Her lips twitched, warring off a smile. “I can’t tell if you’re joking.” When Steve looked at her seriously, she giggled. “You’re cute. It’s a movie from the early 2000s. There’s a scene where the girls perform this on stage. The movie is a mess, but it’s great. What movies do you like?”

“The boring ones.” He lowered his head as they entered traffic and a car stalled beside them.

“Oh, come on, you can tell me. I bet you like westerns. No, biopics, maybe? Time period pieces?”

“What are you basing these assumptions on?” He hoped she wasn’t going to compare him to her grandfather again.

“You’re an old fashioned guy—”

“Emphasis on the old.” He muttered, feeling it more since she once again referenced something from pop culture that went completely over his head. “I haven’t watched many modern movies. I’ve been trying to catch up on all of the ones I’ve missed, but there’s so many ‘classics’ and not enough time.”

“Um, you’re not being a superhero these days, seems like you have nothing but time.”

“Touché.” He stretched his legs out in front of him. “Science fiction,” he answered after a moment of silence, “I’ve been into those types of movies recently. Everything about modern day is still such a mystery to me, I like to watch those movies that are ahead of our time, where the concepts are a mystery to _everyone_.”

“Funnily enough, the sci-fi movies I watched when I was young like _King Kong_ still make a lot more sense to me than the monsters we have today.”

Eva’s smile looked tight and forced. “Totally. Instead of giant gorillas from lost worlds breaking New York we have homegrown Hulks and literal _gods_ and _aliens_ doing it. I’d take oversized, prehistoric animals any day. They’re easier to put down.”

Steve watched her face while she watched the road. Even though she was focusing on driving, it looked like she was deliberately avoiding meeting his gaze.

“Have you really never been back to New York since…” She shrugged. He didn’t know if that was a yes or no, but by the guarded way she tensed, he didn’t want to insist on the matter. “What makes you want to go back now?”

“Now that I’ve quit my job I don’t really have anything else left. And I guess no other place ever felt like home.”

Steve’s breath hitched, again that feeling of being understood and relating to her taking him completely by surprise. “I’m a little homesick, too.”

Eva reached over to grab his hand, giving his fingers a light squeeze. Her hand was clammy from the wheel, but it was nice and snug and reminded him of how lonely the past few months have been.

He kept his own hand still, though, staring down at her chipped nail polish and gold rings. He didn’t know what else to do.

Eva sat bolt upright, snatching her hand away. “Sorry, that was a little—”

“No, Eva—”

“It was too cozy. I’m sorry.”

“Don’t worry about it, it was nice.”

 

Everything was still. The naked moon seemed so close, but grew farther away the more the car moved. The endless sky and never ending expanse of sand played tricks on Steve’s mind the longer he stared out at it. It was a little past midnight, but he wasn’t tired. He offered to drive, but Eva refused again. Instead, Steve rolled down his window to listen to the silent stretches of midnight. The looming, lonesome darkness encompassed the car on all sides like it could swallow them whole. The last hour of driving through the desert truly looked like they were in a loop. Everything looked the same—like nothing at all.

Eva turned off her playlist at their last pit stop, a sleepy roadside McDonalds, and she since hadn’t turned it back on. The silence was only broken by the rattling ice in her coffee cup when she picked it up for another sip, and the bag crinkling as they each reached for cookies.

It was oddly serene. All the quiet and the darkness. He didn’t know Eva could be quiet for this long, not that he was tired of conversing with her.

He noticed when the cool air made her shiver, her hair whipping about her face, and the iced coffee in her free hand making goosebumps rise on her arm. He felt guilty and rolled up his window.

“Sleepy yet?”

“You really want to drive, huh?” Eva teased.

“That’s not it, I just…I don’t want you to exhaust yourself.” Steve grabbed another cookie. “You really _don’t_ want me to drive, huh?”

“I guess you could say I like to be in control.”

“Hmm.” Eva winked at him, and he playfully rolled his eyes. It hadn’t occurred to him until that moment that he was getting used to her and her casual way of turning anything flirty. He thought about the night they met and how she shamelessly insinuated she would sleep with him. He wondered if she meant that at all or if those words were like her ironic, self-aware winks, winks that meant nothing at all but temporary amusement when the other person reacted.

She must’ve meant it; she liked being in control. He saw it in the way she steeled her face and flashed a calculated, pageant girl smile whenever she revealed a little too much emotion—she liked to control how people perceived her.

And in order to do that, she had to keep strict control over her own self. Figuring that, he couldn’t believe the impromptu cross country trip was as impulsive as she wanted it to seem. She was traveling toward something.

 _She has to be_. Steve thought, staring out into the darkness. Or was he overthinking it? Still looking for a catch in all of her kindness?

“Are there anymore sugar cookies?” She asked, calling him from his trance. Steve peered into the bag and then rattled it so she could hear them. “Grab me one.”

“Say please.” He challenged.

Her smile started slow. It wasn’t one of her thoughtful, showy smiles. It was the same illuminating smile she revealed when he showed up at her hotel room that first day for the festival. It was her _real_ smile. But what enticed it? When people surprised her? Or was it when people rose to the challenge and played the game she was so obviously playing with them through every wink and smirk and brush of her fingertips or knees caressing underneath the table?

The more threads he discovered she had, the more he wanted to trace them to find the start.

“You’re cute when you’re thinking.” She said, reaching down for the bag.

“I thought you said you didn’t want me to be in my own head.” He pulled the bag away from her, raising an eyebrow at her feeble attempt to distract him.

“That’s because I like attention, but this time I could tell you were thinking about me so it was fine.”

He felt his cheeks heat up. “There’s no way you could know that.”

She poked his blazing cheek, smiling victoriously. “Isn’t there?”

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> sorry, this took me a bit longer to post because i've rewritten it a bunch of times. my original plans for this chapter just weren't working for the pace, so i finally omitted them so everything flowed better.
> 
> i've just been in a really bad i hate my writing mood i don't know. i'll spare the rant because i dropped it at the end of my new bucky story and i don't want anyone to have to sit through that twice ha. enjoy!
> 
> ALSO the amount of times i wrote chris instead of steve during this was so embarrassingly telling about me. i hope i efficiently edited all of them out.


	6. Tapping On The Glass

“All right, my turn, Captain. Would you rather pick the year you die or the _way_ you die?” Steve winced. _Neither_ , he thought, but she already stressed enough that deflecting wasn't how you were supposed to play the game.

He’d experienced enough brushes with death, he wouldn’t want the way he died to involve violence – but on the other hand, if death came while he was fighting for the safety of others, that was a violence he could accept.

“Why do you have to ask such hard questions?” He asked. A minute ago, his question was about foods, but she hit him with _that_.

“I like things hard.”

She didn’t wink this time, but her tone had the same effect of one. “I’d choose how I die.” He couldn’t imagine picking a year, he surpassed all the ones he never thought he’d reach.

“Good choice. Your turn, Captain.” She had a way of saying _captain_ with a soft purr, like it was a pet name instead of a title. If words were like lassos, that one would be hers to ensnare him. He didn’t give her the satisfaction of showing it had any effect on him; mostly because it bothered him that it did.

He thought of a simple, throwaway sort of question, because he needed more time to think of a creative one. “Would you rather have superpowers or be super rich?”

Her grip tightened on the wheel. Steve studied her white knuckles, then her face, the absence of expression on it. It was one of the easiest questions asked of either of them, yet it was the only one to make her tense? “Well, I’m already rich. If you haven’t noticed.” She said.

Steve noticed. The car mostly gave it away, yet he questioned it. She drove a flashy car and paid for everything without a blink, but hung around cheap hotels and enjoyed cheap food. She was rich, but unmaterialistic. He didn’t know they came that way.

“So I guess I’d have to go with the alternative.” she said.

“Superpowers.”

She nodded. “Yes, that. Would you rather have to live out here in the middle of nowhere forever or…” her eyes gleamed, “never have sex for the rest of your life?”

He coughed, shifting his gaze. This took an unexpected turn—unlike the road, which seemed to be nothing but straight and ceaseless. Exit signs seemed far and in between. For stretches of endless sand there was truly no way out of the desert at all. Pit stop signs hinted at rest areas and discount diners, but no exits. Steve couldn’t imagine living there. The sun made the world look bright red and unreal. It devoured the landscape like a hungry mouth and burned up everything in the car despite the blaring air circulating through it. _What did it feel like outside then?_

Everything was open. There was nowhere to run to, nowhere to hide. _I’m being too practical about the question_. “Neither?” he tried.

She turned to glare at him. “You can’t say neither!”

“I’d rather never have sex.” She gasped, almost theatrically. “The other option is living here, and I can’t. I wouldn’t survive it.” He’d gone a lifetime without sex, he was sure he could handle another one. “What? You’d live here?” He asked, as she gaped at him in disbelief.

“If it meant I could have sex, yes.” Steve saw she meant it, which made him feel awkward for some reason. He stared out the window instead.

Snapshots of memories came fleeting to him, gasping mouth and bare skin, taut curves and tangled blonde hair splayed over hotel sheets. Images he tried to bury. Now that he knew what it was like, could he actually go a lifetime deprived of it? Steve grimaced, staring out at the cacti and rocks to distract himself. _It was just a silly question, you don’t have to entertain it further_.

“Do you want to ask me something?”

He blinked, befuddled. “Huh?” Her eyebrow furrowed. “Oh, right. Sorry. Let me think.”

As the sun spliced through the car, hot and angry, demanding to be felt, Steve felt somewhat of a diorama in a museum, trapped in glass and metal, tightly bolted in, and under bright lights. He rubbed his temples. Eva eyed him. She didn’t ask if he needed to get out this time, but he knew she was thinking it. She asked earlier, when the sky was still black and he kept stretching his legs, feeling like one of those toys that had their string pulled but never got released.

“Can we turn the music back on instead?”

Eva poked at her touchscreen, skipping from one song she didn’t want to hear to another she didn’t like, frowning in distaste at it before changing it once again. None of the music seemed right to her now. She still hadn’t slept. Neither had he. He didn’t expect to feel tired, not yet, his body didn’t work that way anymore.

He wondered how hers worked. She didn’t look restless besides in the way she grew more and more irritated with the music, the road, and the drivers who cut her off that she called vulgar names behind the safety of her windshield. Other than that, she drove with purpose, the same vitality she had when they first started.

Steve lifted his hand against the sun, then stretched out his fingers as if he was touching some invisible glass between their two seats.

Eva watched him, and for the first time in a few hours, Steve noticed he’d been keeping track once he heard it again, she giggled.

“Okay so, we need to take a break, because either you’ve spontaneously decided to become a mime or you’re losing your shit.” She reached up to press her hand against his. “You’re not in a box.” Her skin was cooler than anything else in the car. She opened her fingers and clasped them through his for barely a second, making her point that he wasn’t trapped. Her nails against his knuckles lightly scratched as she withdrew her hand.

The feel of her nails clawed up those buried memories again, and his back tingled with a prickling sensation, the phantom feel of someone else’s nails scraping him there. 

He shifted uncomfortably, clearing his throat. “Technically we are in a box.”

“Remember how you told me not to hesitate if I wanted you to leave?” Something in his chest starting caving in. “I don’t want you to hesitate to tell me if you need to get out, Captain. It’s easy to feel stifled and trapped when you’re traveling nonstop.”

“You could call me Steve, you know.” He introduced himself to her as Steve, yet she opted to call him Mr. Rogers, and now Captain. It shouldn’t have bothered him, but not being called Steve felt impersonal. Being called Steve reminded him there was more to him than Captain America, and he still couldn’t tell if she saw beyond that or not.

“I know.” She tapped her phone into life, swiftly checking for something. “There’s a motel coming up. I really want to wash my hair and rest anyway, so can you hang in there for twenty more minutes?”

“Eva, it’s — I’m fine. I don’t feel trapped.”

He was used to long travels, but what did it say about him if he could only handle traveling via advanced modes of transportation, vehicles he had enough room to move around in, release some of his pent up energy. His energy was like a battery, and he didn’t like to keep too still for too long. It made him feel like a stalled machine at risk of combustion, a feeling something as simple as pacing could alleviate.

Maybe he did feel a _little_ trapped.

He’d been spoiled, used to things happening in the blink of an eye, traveling through the air and arriving in places with the snap of a finger, in jets that cut travel time to hours instead of days. Getting reacquainted with a simple automobile for long stretches at a time like this was harder than he thought it would be—especially because it didn’t have stealth mode. He had to remind himself to duck from people traveling the road alongside of them.

She finally settled on a song, one that started off with some weird sort of banter. “What’s this one?”

“Defying Gravity. It’s from the musical _Wicked_ , you uncultured swine.”

“How many musicals do you have on here?” She already played him half of the _Grease_ soundtrack.

“A lot,” she smiled. “They remind me of my mother. She used to love them.”

A sadness panged through him at the sight of her smile slowly falling away. “Used to?” He asked, keeping his voice soft.

Eva limply shrugged, turning up the music to drown the silent world in it.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> some context —
> 
> 1\. the memories he's recalling are with sharon. i imagine they had a relationship because it's relevant to something later  
> 2\. after this point it'll finally stop being so slow - i hope (but i did tag it slow burn so hopefully no one is like 'when are the other tags coming into play') - that's if i don't keep changing everything i.e.  
> 3\. this was supposed to be a cute chapter of them playing road games but??? and  
> 4\. this isn't really relevant but all of the chapter titles are lyrics from musicals, if you haven't noticed, because in my original draft of this eva was a lot different and loved them so i (being a person who doesn't particularly care for musicals) listened to sooo many soundtracks to prepare for her character....and then i cut all of that characterization out. so the mention of musicals in this is mostly homage to the titles that i decided to keep  
> 5\. i never leave my house and i live on the east coast - i don't know what places look like or if my depictions are remotely accurate lmao. the way steve describes the desert was inspired by a tumblr post about road trips that i found on pinterest. it said something about hands looking like fragile dioramas on a red plate and i just loved it so much.


	7. Filling Up The Empty

“This place seems sketchy. Are you sure you want to park your fancy car here?” Steve asked as Eva returned from the front office of the dainty motel, swinging a keyring around her jeweled finger.

“I’m too tired to find another place,” she said.

Without further questioning, Steve helped her unpack the luggage from her car, surprised by the weight in each of the bags.

“These are full.” He pointed out.

“Of course. This road trip may have been last minute, but you’ve seen how indecisive I am about clothes.” She slid her hands into her back pockets, a methodical movement that poked her chest out as she looked up at him from beneath her lashes. Her eyes were flecked with gold and cheeks splotched red because of the sun. Steve made a methodical effort not to look down past her chin. “How many more outfits do you have?” She asked.

“I don’t know. Enough?” Steve figured they’d cross that bridge when they got to it. He glanced down at the assortment of bags. “You want to take all of these in?”

“Yeah, that way if someone steals my car, they won’t get away with my clothes, too.” She slung a bag over her shoulder, and with a hand on the handle of two other cases, she wheeled them behind her, guiding Steve to their temporary room. The room they’d be sharing. He hadn’t thought that far ahead.

It should be fine, he told himself, was he that childish? Old fashioned? What difference did it make when they shared all of those hours together in a much smaller space?

She forced the stubborn door opened with her shoulder. Steve winced for her when she didn’t, suspecting a bruise was starting to swell beneath her shirt.

The sun spilled into the dark, damp room, casting away shadows and highlighting the puke colored wallpaper and the botched, hand painted roses on it. The old rug matched neither the walls nor the lavender bedding on each twin bed; the beds that were hardly more than arm’s reach distance apart, bisected only by a night table and a burnished lamp.

There was an intimacy to falling asleep with someone, beside someone, and it required a level of trust Steve didn’t know if he could offer Eva, even after their time together. He felt his stomach tighten.

“What’s wrong? Are you too much of a gentleman to share a room with me?” Eva teased. “I’m not even going to sleep naked, just for you. I mean, unless you want me to.”

The image it conjured made it hard to look at her. Instead he shook his head and breathed a deep, exasperated sigh. “ _Eva_.”

“It was a joke.” She dropped her luggage on the bed closer to the door, staking her claim, and she went to check out the bathroom before Steve could utter another word. A second later, he heard the sound of a creaking facet. He plopped on the bed opposite hers and kicked off his shoes as the sound of running water filled the small room.

“The water runs clear, so that’s a good sign. I’m showering first.” Eva announced.

That was fine with him. She unzipped her suitcase and retrieved a small case of toiletries and a pair of silk pajamas. “I’ll even get dressed in the bathroom unless—”

“Don’t say it. I don’t want to see you naked.”

She laughed heartily as she ducked into the bathroom. Steve laid back and rested, staring up at the ceiling with a smile on his face.

While she showered, her phone blared for her attention, incessantly vibrating against the bedside lamp. Once again, Steve caught himself wondering what life she was leaving behind and if there was more to her story than she told him. It didn’t seem appropriate to question her. And what would be the point? He’d never see her again after all of this.

He was reminded, once more, how insane embarking on this trip with her was. He pulled a pillow over his face in an attempt to silence the world and his nauseating thoughts, and waited for his turn to shower.

 

Eva had all sorts of face washes and creams scattered among the countertop. Steve felt a pang in his chest at how homey the clutter looked there. He never experienced what it would be like to return home to someone. He thought it may feel a bit similar to this; Eva’s toothbrush still damp and dangling from the cheap holder, her discarded clothes a lump in the corner, the scent of her perfume lingering in the air, her shampoo and body washes lining the tub. He traveled in the company of others often, but those were always for missions or escaping. No one ever had the luxury of bringing so much stuff with them, personalizing a space and filling it with so much of themselves. It was weird how much mundane stuff could truly make a place feel comfortable. Make him forget he was a nomad, even for a second.

In the shower, the water grew tepid, but not quite hot. Steve put his head under the spray, his hands against the tile wall, and let it wash over him. He watched as the water spiraled down the drain. He wished it was taking his stress with it, but he still felt it weighing down his shoulders.

When he returned to the room, Eva was tucked like a burrito, her bright white headband stark against her dark hair, poking from beneath it. He heard the labored sounds of her breathing, knowing any second she’d be out like a light. He tiptoed to his side, ardent to not disturb her.

The blanket was so crisp that it crinkled when he pulled it back. He didn’t mind too much, he experienced worst sleeping conditions before. He crawled in.

“Hey, Cap?”

His breath caught. “Yes?”

“If you’re going to leave will you wake me to say goodbye first?” She turned in her cocoon, pushing the blankets away from her face. Her eyes were soft and her eyelids heavy, her lashes splaying across her rosy cheekbones with every blink that she struggled to reopen. She looked so small and vulnerable when she was tired.

“If that’s what you want, yes.”

She exhaled a deep breath and it sounded a lot like relief. She let her eyes drift close. “I don’t want you to leave, but I would prefer a warning if you’re going to.”

He let out his breath. “Okay.”

 

Day turned into night. Steve grew tired of staring at the ceiling. He tried to keep quiet as he climbed out of bed and laced up his sneakers.

The way Eva stretched out in her sleep, one hand hanging off the edge of the bed and one leg parted from her swath of blankets, made him smile to herself. He pulled on his baseball cap, grabbed his burner phone, and started into the night.

There was a text waiting for him. The number wasn’t saved, and it was only a couple of words. The message was from Sam and he was dropping his latest location. If only Wanda would do the same, Steve could worry less.

Walking didn’t burn as much energy as he would’ve liked. There was nothing around for miles. There was no sight of anyone else. Steve allowed himself to run. Really run. And it felt good.

 

He was surprised to find Eva awake when he returned. She was speaking rapidly into her phone and tossing things into her suitcase. She looked haphazard and frazzled, an oversized sweater thrown over top of her shirt, leather boots that probably wouldn’t ordinarily be paired with pink, silk pajama bottoms, as she told whoever was on the phone, “Don’t be so quick to place blame.”

Steve wanted to eavesdrop but the floor creaked and Eva spun around, her mouth dropping open. Steve raised an eyebrow at her, and her eyes roved down to take in the sight of him, widening more as they descended.

“I’ll talk to you later.” She said into the phone. She pinched the bridge of her nose once she hung up.

“What’s going on?” Steve asked, shutting the door behind him. “Why are you leaving?”

“Because you’re an asshole.”

“Pardon?”

“I thought you were gone. What – where’d you go? Why are you so sweaty?”

Steve glanced down at his shirt. It clung to every swell of muscle. No wonder she looked at him that way. “I went for a run.” He said.

“In the _desert_? Don’t you need sleep or does your body just recharge itself?”

There were bigger things at hand he wanted to talk about. Like why would she make an abrupt exit just because he left?

“Eva,” he began, his head turning to the window as headlights went by. He felt his heartbeat accelerating. “Who was on the phone?”

“Excuse me?”

The car continued by. Steve looked at Eva, who had her arms crossed over her chest. “It’s been ringing all day.”

“Yeah, but I don’t get why you think it’s your business.” She kicked off her shoes, settling on the edge of her bed. Steve couldn’t shake the feeling someone was coming after him, even watching her get comfortable again. “Oh my god, Cap, relax. It was just Kellan. He’s been stalking me.”

The guy from the band? Steve walked over to the window and peered out. Behind him, Eva snorted.

“Not literally. I just mean he won’t leave me alone.”

“But didn’t you date him _eight_ years ago?” Something wasn’t adding up.

“Well, yeah, doesn’t mean we don’t casually hook up when we’re in the same city. Why else do you think I went to his shitty performance? We fucked after and now he’s sending me bad poetry and singing on my voicemail. I don’t know what his deal is these days.”

Steve thought back to that night. She’d asked him to hang out longer, but he rejected. He wondered if that’s where she imagined the night heading, her request a prelude to something more, or if she always intended to end the night with her ex.

“Didn’t you say you were better off?” He peeked through the crooked blind slats again, making sure the street was silent.

“It’s not my fault he’s good in bed. Who are you looking for?”

Someone. Anyone. Her setting him up would be more plausible than her being offended enough to pack up and go because he didn’t wake her. But outside, everything was still. Steve allowed himself to relax a little.

“I didn’t call the cops or FBI. CIA? Who even am I supposed to tell if I see you? Whatever, doesn’t matter. I didn’t tell on you just because you left me here alone. Stop freaking out.”

Steve took a deep breath and faced her. He brushed his damp hair off his forehead.

She smiled softly at him. “I might next time, though.” For some reason, he smiled back. “I really thought you had lied to my face. If I saw you out there, I was going to run you over.”

He laughed. “That sounds a bit extreme.”

“For an ordinary person, maybe. Something tells me you’d walk it off, so.” She shrugged.

“I’m sorry I upset you.”

“You give yourself too much credit. It takes a lot to upset me, I was just annoyed.”

 “Well, I’m sorry I did that.”

Her eyes narrowed, as if she wasn’t sure she should believe him. “Go shower. I’ll think about being here when you get out.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> :)


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